


final show of the kiss me already

by wrongtree



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Canon Compliant, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Pining, SO MUCH FLUFF, a lot of alcohol consumption, an over-use of the word "hey" all stretched out, nick is topless a lot... i don't know why
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-24 02:34:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2565119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrongtree/pseuds/wrongtree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>The next question Harry sees on the page makes him flush a little bit, ‘out of the people here tonight, who has kissed Grimmy?’. Harry asks it and figures he shouldn’t feel as surprised as he does when everyone laughs and puts their hand in the air. The six or seven people in front of him put their hands up, people are waving from the live lounge, and it seems that the only person who hasn’t kissed Nick is Harry.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>or, Harry has a big gross crush on Nick.<br/>or, Lots of pining and (light) jealousy because Harry seems to be the only one who Nick hasn't kissed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	final show of the kiss me already

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lilah80](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilah80/gifts).



> Prompt: _During the last nighttime show, Harry laughed along as he read out questions like "Who in this room has kissed Grimmy." But what really, really burned was that he couldn't raise his hand for that question, because Nick and Harry hadn't, they never had, ever, and he can't figure out WHY NOT. Canon-compliant on this one, please!_
> 
> i tried to keep this fic Canon-Compliant as hell, and while the events are based on things that have actually happened, this is a work of fiction. a lot of the dialogue was taken from the audio of the last nighttime show so credit to the people that said them, i hope they never see this. any discrepancies are my own fault and i apologize! 
> 
> i can't thank my beta's enough, you know who you are, for their input and suggestions and grammatical help and encouragement. i don't know how i ever got along without them.  
> any remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> [lilah80](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lilah80), my dear, i hope you enjoy this xx

Tucked away in the corner of the live lounge’s studio in the Radio 1 basement, Harry watches as Aimee and Pixie try to throw grapes into each others mouths; they’ve got some kind of game going where every time they miss they have to take a shot. They miss a lot.

It’s Nick’s last night time show and it seems like _everyone_ Nick’s ever known is here, or are going to be; most people haven't arrived yet, just a small gathering who were at Nick's flat before the show, and the people that can’t physically be here are set up on Skype for later. Harry’s already a little overwhelmed by the sea of faces coming into the studio, and more guests are supposed to stop in for a visit later. He’s met most of Nick’s closest pals, but there are other popstars and artists and important people in Nick’s life that Harry’s only heard fun stories about, all coming to celebrate Nick's successes. He’s still trying to wrap his head around the fact that _he’s_ been invited to Nick’s last show, let alone the fact that Actual A-list people will be stopping in.

“WE’RE DOING THE NEWS, TWO MINUTES AND FORTY SECONDS UNTIL LAST NIGHT TIME SHOW _EVER!_ ” Nick’s voice carries from his studio through to the open door of live lounge and everyone in either studio cheers back. Harry smiles absentmindedly as Nick lifts his headphones to run a hand through his quiff. It’s a sign of nervousness and Harry wishes he was over there so he could try and calm him, at least put a reassuring hand on his shoulder or something. “WHAT AM I STARTING THE SHOW WITH? HOW DO YOU PLAY MUSIC? THEY’RE GONNA SACK ME BEFORE I EVEN GET TO DO BREAKFAST.” Nick’s being boisterous, trying to hide his nerves. Harry’s sure he’s not the only one who notices but he’s always felt more finetuned to Nick’s emotions than anyone else, able to pick up on Nick's feelings before Nick realizes his facial expression is giving him away.

Aimee leaves her game for to stick her head through the live lounge’s door and shout, “Start with _Kiki_!” 

Nick’s head snaps to her and he blows her a kiss. “Yes, Aims! Obviously. What would I do without you?”

“Die a sad and lonely death probably,” she calls before shoulder-shimming her way back to a hiccuping Pixie.

As Nick clips up a few songs, Harry thinks back to when Nick was told he was getting his dream job…

 

It’s a hot and oddly stuffy day in July and Harry’s roaming around London when his phone starts ringing in his pocket.

“You’re still coming over later, yeah?” Nick asks down the phone in lieu of hello.

He’s never been one to double check on plans so Harry’s a little confused. “‘Course, yeah, said I would be…” 

“Okay. Cool, great, wonderful. SO FINE, IN FACT.”

Harry smiles at the lady standing in the crepe booth as he walks past, making a mental note to stop there later. “Nick, what’s up? Why are you acting so weird?”

He scoffs, “Acting weird? Me? Please Harold, I’m normal as always. Regular everyday conversation we’re having.”

Harry sighs. “Am I on radio right now?” He gets into his car and rolls the windows down; it’s gotten stuffy while he’s been running errands. His house still isn’t back to being fully stocked after tour, even though he’s been home for a week and a half.

“No! It’s the middle of the day, don’t be ridiculous.”

“I know you prerecord call or delete, Nick.”

Nick gasps, and Harry can picture the lad’s hand shooting up to his chest. It makes him smile. “How dare you. Everything we do is live and spectacular. If we _were_ recording you would have just fucked it all up. So thanks, Harry, for hypothetically ruining a hypothetical call or delete. Next time I’d hypothetically delete your number.”

Harry furrows his brow, kind of offended, but also kind of amused. “Okaaaaayy. I’m gonna go because you’re being strange, but I’ll see you later, yeah?”

He squawks a little and Harry knows he’s waving his hands about. “I--” he stops himself, “Yeah all right, byyyeeeeee popstar. Bye b-bye bye bye.”

When he arrives at Nick’s flat that night, Chinese takeaway in hand, Harry has almost completely forgotten about the strange conversation with him as the lad opens the door, a gust of his cologne making Harry immediately smile and feel at ease. Nick throws one arm around Harry’s shoulders before he notices the bag.

“Food! You’re absolutely my favourite member of any five-piece boyband I know,” he says, grabbing the bag and heading to the kitchen.

Harry toes off his shoes and closes the door behind him. “You have other five-piece boyband favourites?” He calls down the hall after Nick.

“I’ll forgive your ignorance since you weren’t even born yet, but JC circa 1998 was a dreamboat, he’d have been your favourite too.”

“Heeeyyyy, I was alive. I preferred Justin though, _SexyBack_ was wicked.”

Nick waves his hand behind his back, “You can’t compare 1998 JC Chasez to, like, 2006 Justin Timberlake, they’re not the same. You were a literal toddler when N*Sync were popular, you don’t know what it was like back then.”

Harry jumps up on the counter next to where Nick has put out plates and kicks his feet a little, shrugging. “Well as long as I’m your favourite _now_.”

“For now,” Nick corrects. “Now make yourself useful and fetch us some glasses.”

Nick is his normal amount of weird through dinner, if a little more chatty. Eventually he gets bored of eating and starts throwing pieces of fortune cookie into Harry’s hair, all while Harry frowns and tries mildly successfully to eat his egg fried rice with chopsticks.

They settle on the couch with wine and an old episode of Nigella. Well, _Harry_ settles. Nick won’t sit still. He keeps setting his glass on the table and then picking it up again, shifting his feet under his bum and then back onto the floor, flipping his quiff to one side and then deciding he wants it on the other. It’s enough to put Harry on edge, feeding off of the anxious vibes coming from Nick.

Harry sets his wine glass on the table and wraps his fingers around Nick’s twitching wrists. “What’s going on?”

He just shakes his head and answers, “Nothing, told you earlier. Everything is fine.”

“Nick, you’ve been fidgety all night,” Harry suddenly remembers that Nick had said Big Boss Ben Cooper called him in for a meeting. “Did everything go okay with Ben?”

“With who? Oh, yeah, yeah totally fine,” he says absently, obviously avoiding the question.

“So you’re not being sacked?” Harry says sharply. 

Nick chuckles as his hand pats Harry’s… ear. He’s refusing to make eye contact with Harry, not even looking at him long enough to pat his head properly. “No sacking.” 

“Nick! Just tell me what’s wrong then, you’re freaking me out.” 

“No, I literally can’t tell you,” he whines, getting up and heading back to the kitchen. 

“Nick!” Harry snaps. 

“I’m sworn to secrecy!” He throws his hands up in the air. “I can’t tell you! You’re the only one I trust myself around enough to not say anything, even with your big sad eyes.” Nick rubs both hands over his face and then one through his quiff.

Harry frowns a little bit. “That look there!” Nick points. “Henry, or Gellz, _definitely Aimee_ , would beat me up for not saying anything. But I really, really can’t! Please just drop it.” Nick walks back to the couch and flops onto it, putting his head in Harry’s lap.

Harry runs his fingers through Nick’s hair a bit and asks, “Everything is okay, though?”

Nick closes his eyes and smiles. “Everything is _so good_ , Harry.” 

They finish watching an episode of Nigella, then an old X-Factor audition. Nick ensures Harry that he can make it through a film so Harry picks something off Nick’s shelf at random and pops it on. Harry gets sucked into the storyline and it’s not until he tries to ask Nick something that he realizes the man has fallen asleep beside him. He’s snuffling a bit and his head is tilted at an awkward angle from where he’s sitting up against the armrest of the couch, and Harry thinks he looks adorable. He looks absolutely at ease, arms crossed against his chest and mouth parted slightly, toes tucked under Harry’s thigh. 

Harry sighs and moves to turn off the film. He tries to be as quiet as he can but it’s dark and he bangs his shin into the table. He shouts and it startles Nick awake, who looks at Harry like the boy’s got three heads. 

“What?” He says. 

Harry grimaces. “Sorry, shh. It’s all right.” 

Nick frowns. “Bed?” 

“Yeah c’mon,” Harry says warmly. He helps Nick off the couch and down the hall to his bedroom. 

They brush their teeth together, hips knocking. Nick makes a face at Harry, causing him to laugh and splutter toothpaste all over the mirror and sink. Nick snorts and shakes his head, grabbing a flannel and handing it off to Harry. 

By the time Harry’s cleaned the mirror and his face, Nick’s snuggled up in bed. He doesn’t have his phone in his hand like he usually does and is instead just smiling at the ceiling. Harry strips down to his t-shirt and boxer shorts and crawls in, he feels safe and comfortable, like he’s not meant to be anywhere else but here.

“Sorry for being so weird today,” Nick says, rolling over to look at Harry.

“S’okay, just worried about you.” Harry shrugs, flipping his fringe out of his face. “You’ll tell me when you’re allowed, right?”

Nick chuckles, “‘Course, popstar.”

They lie in silence after that, Harry watching Nick, Nick watching the ceiling with a small smile on his face. It hits Harry all at once how much he wants to kiss Nick. They’ve been friends for a little while now, totally long enough for a cheeky kiss goodnight to be a normal thing. Harry knows Nick likes to have someone to sleep next to, but he’s sure all of Nick’s other friends would get a goodnight smooch along with the cuddle.

Harry thinks about just doing it, just leaning over and pressing his mouth to Nick’s when, at the moment he turns toward him, Nick lets out a little snore. Harry can’t help but bark out a laugh; so much for that plan. Instead, he rolls back over and falls asleep listening to Nick’s even breathing with butterflies in his stomach.

Despite falling asleep so quickly, Nick tosses and turns all night, waking Harry up every time he gets out of bed. Harry ignores him the first couple of times, just pulls up the blanket and closes his eyes again, and when he decides he really is going to get up and check on the man, sleep holds him to the bed. He’s not sure when Nick settles, if he ever does, but eventually there’s a long stretch of time where Harry doesn’t wake up as Nick putters about the room. 

A loud crash and a yell wake finally rouse Harry completely. He knows it’s early by the faint light coming from Nick’s window. Nick’s not in bed but the shout tells Harry he’s somewhere in the house, so he pushes the bedding aside and hops out of bed to wander toward the living room.

Nick’s not there but is frantically running about the kitchen, topless and muttering to himself. 

“Nick?” Harry asks, observing the large puddle of what looks like coffee on the floor. 

“Just, ARGH, wanted to make another bloody cup of coffee but nooooo!” Nick wails, mopping up the spill with his t-shirt. 

Harry jumps to action, grabbing Nick’s shoulders and leading him to a chair. He puts Nick’s sopping t-shirt in the sink and finds a towel to properly clean up the coffee puddle. Nick keeps saying nonsensical phrases while Harry works. Something about “the radio” and “important day” and “Chris Moyles”. Harry doesn’t really understand but lets Nick rant anyway. 

Once the mess is cleaned and there’s a new pot of coffee brewing, Harry notices the radio faintly playing. “Can I turn this up?” He asks. 

Nick chokes on air and puts his head down on the table. Harry will take that as a no. 

He sets about making them breakfast with what little options he has from Nick’s fridge while Nick rolls his head back and forth on the table, small unintelligent noises emanating from him. 

Nick wails again and gets up to turn the radio up himself. The Moyles Breakfast Show is on, Harry doesn’t know much about it other than Nick’s wanted the job since he was a child. Nick doesn’t really say anything bad about anyone, but he also doesn’t have much to say about Moyles either, outside of interviews, which Harry takes to mean as Nick not being overly fond of the DJ. 

Harry sets their omelettes and juice on the table and eats warily as Nick gets more and more fidgety.

The radio says Moyles has an announcement to make. “Wonder what that’s about,” Harry ponders, mouth half full of food. 

Nick’s voice goes up about six octaves as he says, “No idea.” 

Their food is finished and their plates are washed and put away before the announcement actually happens. Nick is positively vibrating in his seat by this point, looking between the radio, his fidgeting hands, his blank phone screen, and a concerned Harry. 

Harry knows that Nick knows what’s happening, and is kind of frustrated that Nick won’t just tell him. The man’s starting to freak Harry out, actually, he’s afraid he’s going to have to call 999 before the morning is over. 

“I wonder what he’s going to say,” Harry prompts, trying to get Nick to tell him earlier than the radio will. 

“I don’t know!” Nick cries, “Let’s just wait to see.” 

They’re quiet again as Moyles cues up some sad music, Harry’s heart is thumping hard in his chest and Nicks looks like he’s going to be sick. Harry has no idea what’s going on. That’s when Nick starts crying. 

“Nick?” Harry says gently, reaching his hand to where Nick’s are clasped on the radio. He grabs one of them while Nick wipes his eye with another. 

“I’m fine! I’m fine, shh! Listen!” He squeezes Harry’s hand tighter and tighter as Moyles keeps talking, tears rolling down his cheeks. 

That’s when the ball finally drops, “We’re going to leave the breakfast show,” Moyles says.

Nick’s head drops to the table again and he screams. “Radio 1 are going to find someone new to host the show, they’ll put their take on it…” The radio announces, barely heard over Nick.

Harry doesn’t try to listen anymore because Nick’s sobbing and laughing and going completely hysterical on the table.

“Nick…”

“Hmm hert fermast,” Nick mumbles into the tabletop.

“You what?” asks Harry.

“I got breakfast,” he whispers.

It takes a second to click in Harry’s brain, his first thought is ‘no, _I_ did breakfast,’ and then the pieces start falling together: Moyles’ announcement, Nick’s weird behaviour, the whispered words. Finally, Harry clues in, “YOU GOT BREAKFAST! You’re doing the Radio 1 Breakfast Show!”

Nick takes a shaky breath in and repeats, “I got breakfast.”

Harry bounds from his seat and launches himself into Nick’s lap for a hug. “YOU’RE GOING TO HOST THE BLOODY RADIO 1 BREAKFAST SHOW!” He screams into Nick’s neck.

“Pinch me, I’m not sure this is real.”

Harry smirks and pinches Nick’s bare nipple.

“Oi! Menace. Geroff me you great loaf,” Nick laughs, pushing Harry onto the floor.

As Nick fields phone calls and happy exclamations all day, Harry watches him with what he’s sure is a gross, fond expression. He is over the moon for Nick, couldn’t be happier to be celebrating this momentous occasion with his best friend, wants nothing more than to kiss him in congratulations.

He hasn’t, yet, but it’s not for lack of trying; once the phone calls die down and Nick stops bouncing on all the furniture Harry tries to corner him.

“Harold! Get ready! We’ve got celebrating to do!”

“But Nick-” He’s stopped with Nick’s hand over his mouth.

“Partying. Drinks. BREAKFAST!” He hollers as he jumps down the hall.

Harry sighs fondly; Nick’s too riled up now anyway. He’s sure it would be like kissing an over excited puppy, all tongue. He fixes his hair and follows after him, like he’s the one who’s the puppy.

 

Harry smiles to himself, remembering how thrilled Nick looked then, and how he seems to glow with happiness now. Nick loves a party and this one is just for him, celebrating his success of getting his _dream job_. Harry knows the feeling, had felt it from getting put in One Direction on X-Factor straight through to finishing the Up All Night tour, he's sure Nick is feeling just as over the moon as he was then.

Right now Nick’s talking to Alexa on the phone and listing off everyone in the studio with him, except Harry. He gives Harry a wink and skips over him to start talking about the Klaxons who are all playing Guitar Hero badly in the live lounge behind Harry, who’s standing in the doorway of the room. He frowns at being left out and Example walks over and shakes Harry’s shoulders, causing Nick, and everyone else, including Alexa, to laugh.

“Uh, Zayn Malik, from One Direction,” Nick starts, wiggling his eyebrows at Harry, “is the most indie member of One Direction. True or false.”

Example starts laughing and Alexa chuckles nervously, “Is Harry there?” She asks.

“No,” Nick says hurriedly, looking right at Harry with a smirk.

Harry shakes out his hair and turns back into the live lounge, careful not to be caught on the cameras. He’s not sure they’re on yet but the the producers have tried to keep Harry being there as hush-hush as possible because he’s still ‘a security nightmare’ (as Nick has put it multiple times). Harry’s sure everyone knows he’s here anyway though, kind of hopes people know him well enough to know that he wouldn’t miss something as important to Nick as this.

“Hazzzaaa!” Aimee screeches, pulling him in for a hug. “Come do a shot with Gillian and I!”

Harry ducks his head and smiles. “Okay,” he says, stretching out the last syllable.

Aimee lines up three glasses filled with pink liquid and picks one up. “On the count of three?” She suggests while Gillian and Harry pick up their drinks. “One, two--” she drinks on two and Harry laughs as he knocks back his own shot.

He notices as he goes to set the glass down that there’s a cat engraved on the side. “I love miniature things,” he muses, twisting the glass in his hand.

Aimee laughs, “No more drinks for you, kiddo.”

“Heeeeeeyy.”

Aimee laughs and sticks her head out of the door again to yell “Pigeon Detectives!” She steps back into the room and shakes out her bright orange hair. “Honestly, s’like I’m the part of his brain that holds memories.” 

Harry’s amazed that she can do so many things at once: drink, hold a conversation, tell what Nick’s talking about in the other room. He’s been fine-tuned to Nick all night but Harry also kind of feels like he’s just there, just another body in the room. He keeps getting distracted from things by how happy and comfortable Nick looks. 

“You’re the best part about him, Aims,” Harry says sincerely. 

She nods, saying, “You know, I really am,” and ruffles Harry’s hair up. “Hey, have you ever met Beth Ditto, Haz?” 

He shakes his head. Nick has talked about her before and played Harry one of the Gossip’s records, but he’s never actually met her. 

“She’s an absolute basket case, you’ll love her. C’mon, c’mon.” She grabs Harry’s hand and pulls him into Nick’s studio. He’s a little hesitant but leans against a wall nonetheless once Nick smiles and nods at him, letting Aimee go join people on the couch. 

He watches between the laptop screen and Nick as he talks to Beth. He immediately likes her; talking to her makes Nick laugh and thickens his accent, his words a bit jammed together, like he’s trying to overcompensate for her American-ness. 

“Hey Beth, we’re gonna play your record!” Nick exclaims, then cues it up and takes off his headphones. “Harold, get over here,” he says once the song starts playing, making grabby hands at the boy.

Harry shuffles over and bends in half to get a better view of the screen. 

“Beth Ditto,” Nick says, “this is Harry Styles. Harry, this is Beth.”

“Hiiiii Beth!” Harry waves at the screen, hand going blurry with the little bit of lag between the connections.

“Hello Harry! How are ya? Nick treating you good?” She smirks.

“Beth!” Nick yells, laughing through the word as he drags it out, voice going choppy.

Harry tucks his chin to his neck and looks up, bottom lip caught between his teeth. “He’s all right, yeah. Show’s been a bit rough, though.”

His comment makes Beth laugh, head thrown back. Nick frowns and crosses his arms. “Don’t make me send you back to the live lounge, Harry. I’ll do it. Get, get. Go sit, we’ve got a professional show to run.”

“Bye Beth! It was nice meeting you!” Harry says as Nick pushes him away.

Harry’s reluctant to leave; it’s warm next to Nick and he smells nice. Harry immediately feels better standing in Nick’s happy glow, like he’s radiating a happy orange aura. He doesn’t want to leave Nick’s side at all but he laughs nonetheless as he goes around to the other side of the desk, plunking himself down on the couch next to where Aimee is listening to Example talk about his latest conquest. Aimee’s not really having it, keeps interrupting him to tell him he shouldn’t brag about “shagging bitches” while he’s in a serious relationship. Every once in a while she’ll turn to Harry and roll her eyes exaggeratedly.

Nick’s telling Beth they’re about to go back on air and Harry taps Aimee on the shoulder to get her attention. He points to Nick’s mic and mimes pulling on it. Aimee laughs and nods enthusiastically, whispering, “Do it.”

“The Gossip, on BBC Radio 1. This is _Get A Job_ ,” Nick says and Harry pulls up on the cords of his microphone, causing it to raise up and away from his face. Nick’s looks up, startled, and then levels Harry with a look of fond exasperation. Aimee and Harry both chortle. “Thank you,” Nick says while he rights his mic and continues talking.

Aimee claps her hands gently. “That was hysterical, Haz.”

“It’s almost like a tradition now,” Harry shrugs. “I do it every time I come in.”

 “Making Grim’s life hell, I can respect that,” Example chimes in. 

Over the sound of Example and Aimee arguing about something, Harry catches Nick’s eye as he tells the nation that everyone’s left the studio except for “a couple wasters, at the back”, pointing at Harry, Example, and Aimee. Harry frowns and mouths a drawn out “hey” before he turns his attention to said wasters while they chatter a bit more as Nick says goodbye to Beth, plays a record and gets Henry, Gillian, and Pixie set up for a chat on air. 

“Don’t swear, don’t promote other stations, and don’t make me look like a twat,” Nick warns, getting his music cues set up.

“You do that all on your own, Grim,” Henry says.

“Heeeeyyy,” Nick whines, smiling at Harry who frowns and says it back, offended at the imitation of himself.

Once on air they start picking on Pixie, Nick ribbing her about her dad’s ‘sexy’ face on the cover of a magazine. One of the things Harry loves most about Nick’s friends is that they can take his teasing and dish it right back. It’s all done in jest and for a laugh but they’re able to keep up with Nick’s ridiculousness.

Harry’s asking Aimee about whether or not Nick actually _did_ “look wicked” with his face done up in makeup when Nick pipes up,

“Heya, how ‘bout stop talking, people at the back.” 

Harry’s ears perk up and he looks at Nick, mouthing a quick “sorry” while Aimee and Example just laugh. Harry shakes his head and looks at them. “It’s all you two!” He says. 

“He thinks he’s driving this show,” Example says. 

“Kinda is,” Aimee laughs. 

Example frowns and Harry hides his laugh by shaking out his hair. 

“Did you see the alcohol content on this rum, Aimee?” Example asks, trying to change the subject. 

“Did you expect anything else, Elliot?” She says back in the same tone. 

“Think I’ve drank most of it. Might have to go find more.”

“Well, when you do, bring some back. Gonna need more if I have to listen to your yap all night,” she says with a laugh, trying to keep it light.

Example kind of laughs and gets up to walk away.

“God, about time,” she says to Harry. “He’s great and all, but if I have to hear about his pussy banging one more time.”

Harry barks out a laugh, always a bit shocked by the things that come out of Aimee’s mouth. She’s definitely his favourite of Nick’s friends, and he’s thrilled to call her one of his own as well. She waltzed into his life in a blur of orange hair, bright lips, and fur coats, and he kind of wants her to stay forever.

Harry is about to respond when a voice interrupts him, “Harold!” He turns to look at Nick who’s still smiling at him. “Since you’re so keen on being all chatty chatty, why don’t you read these questions coming in.”

“You can’t take him away from me!” Aimee hollers, wrapping her arms around Harry’s torso.

“He’s mine now, Aims. C’mon, young Harold.”

“Okay,” he says, extracting himself from Aimee’s hug. Producer Clare hands Harry a set of headphones and pats him on the back. He’s been on the radio enough to have some sort of idea what he’s doing.

He waits while Nick talks, chomping on some gum to keep himself occupied. He’s a bit nervous; he hasn’t had much of a chance to speak to Nick yet. They exchanged a quick hug and some hello’s when he arrived, but there are so many other people around that they haven’t really been next to each other yet except for a few seconds at a time. Every time Nick moves, Harry catches light whiffs of his cologne, mixed with a bit of sweat now, and he absolutely loves it. It keeps him calmer than he thinks he should be, the smell familiar and safe.

Harry squats beside Nick and is immediately uncomfortable. Nick notices and looks down at him. “Uh, d’you want a chair?” he asks. “You can sit on that chair if you want.”

Clare wheels him over a chair and he thanks her, scooching up next to Nick while he’s introduced.

“Let’s welcome our next guest, Harry Styles from The Want- uh, One Direction!” Harry shakes his head as Nick open-mouth smiles at him, so pleased with his little joke.

Harry makes a face and clenches a fist while Henry and Gillian and the rest of the people in the studio react to Nick’s ribbing with a little chorus of “oooooh’s”. Harry swings with his right arm and connects with Nick’s shoulder once before Nick wraps his fingers around his wrist. He tries to swing with his left but Nick grabs that too. Harry can’t even stay mad because Nick’s holding both of his wrists still and it’s a far better reward than causing Nick pain.

“No punches,” he chastises, “no punches please.”

“Okay,” Harry resigns.

“Harry Styles is here!” Nick tells the microphone, broadcasting to the nation.

He wheels back into place close to Nick and knocks his feet against the man’s.

Maybe a little too close because Nick says, “I don’t like the position down here right now, thank you. ”

Harry huffs out a laugh. “Sorry! I’m a bit tired.”

“A live radio spoon,” Nick says.

Harry flushes just as Clare taps him on the shoulder to remind him of where the cameras for the live broadcast are. He’s sure his eyes are too wide and bright for normal conversation but he thanks her nonetheless. Harry definitely feels like a puppy now, like one that’s chasing its own tail, being so close to Nick again. Nick’s radiating happiness and it’s making Harry feel all warm and fuzzy inside; he wonders if everyone else can feel how happy Nick is or if it’s just him.

Getting back to the task at hand, he’s on air to ask three of Nick’s closest pals questions about him, and Harry’s as excited as he is nervous. It’s been months since they’ve met but Harry’s still the newest addition to the inner circle of Nick’s friends and he wants to fit in, wants to keep his spot metaphorically, and physically, actually, next to Nick’s side.

Nick’s leaning all into Harry’s space while he announces the feature they’re doing and Harry’s trying so hard not to lean right onto his shoulder, nuzzle his face into the lad’s neck and just stay there for the rest of the evening.

“Feel free to ask any of these, Harry,” Nick instructs, pointing at the page. “But don’t, uhm, get me in trouble or anything.”  
  
“Is this one okay?” Harry whispers, putting his finger next to Nick’s on the paper filled with questions.

“Yeah, that’s a good one,” Nick encourages, “so say who it’s from first!” he continues in a patronizing voice. Nick pokes Harry’s dimple with the end of the pen in his hand while Harry asks the trio what they thought Grimmy’s worst haircut was.

They all answer “the blonde” as being Nick’s worst haircut and Harry thinks they answered a bit too quick, as he says to Nick. It’s endearing though, watching Nick and his friends talk about how awful Nick once looked, like a family member making fun of something stupid you did years ago.

The next question Harry sees on the page makes him flush a little bit, ‘out of the people here tonight, who has kissed Grimmy?’. Harry asks it and figures he shouldn’t feel as surprised as he does when everyone laughs and puts their hand in the air. The six or seven people in front of him put their hands up, people are waving from the live lounge, and it seems that the only person who hasn’t kissed Nick is Harry.

He’s still not entirely sure why; they’ve kissed each other’s cheeks before, had an almost brush of lips before bed once, until Nick had pulled away. Harry’s not sure what the big deal is, it’s just a kiss. And he really, _really_ , wants to kiss Nick.

The blonde hair is brought back up again and Harry remembers the photo from one of the first times meeting Aimee, back when they all spent Christmas together. They had all been at Nick’s parents house for dinner and while Nick was in the kitchen reluctantly helping Eileen with some cooking Aimee had pulled up the photo on his laptop. “Look at this idiot,” she had said, flipping through the selfies and paparazzi shots. “Blonde wasn’t your best look, Grim!” She yelled to the kitchen.

“Dunno what he was thinkin’,” Pete had added, sipping from the brandy in his hand, still watching the football on TV from his armchair. He’d been there all day, bossing Nick around much to Aimee and Harry’s amusement and Nick’s chagrin.

“STOP EMBARRASSING ME, AIMEE!” Nick had hollered, running out of the kitchen with a whisk in hand,

“Worst is yet to come, Nicholas,” Aimee had said. “Where are those naked baby photos, Pete?” She asked as she put the computer on Harry’s lap and got up to go poke at Nick’s sides.

It was the first time Harry had heard Nick giggle; he’ll never forget the way his face scrunched up as he was tickled. The exchange ended in Nick chasing Aimee around the decorated kitchen table while Harry clutched at his stomach in laughter.

(Nick _was_ embarrassed further. Harry had gotten a cheeky story about Nick as a child out of Eileen while he helped her put the finishing touches on dinner. She told him a story about Nick trying to help his older sister out in the horse pasture when he’d tripped and face planted into a large pile of manure.

“He stunk for days!” She laughed, “Barely took him out of the bath for 48 straight hours.”

It was one of the best holidays Harry’d ever had.)

Present day Harry says of the blonde hair, “I thought it was all right! But I didn’t see it,” to Nick, and then, “You people are awful friends,” to Henry, Gillian, and Pixie.

He asks another question and, while they’re answering, scans the list. The next question on it is ‘how many popstars has Grimmy hooked up with?’ but Harry doesn’t feel comfortable asking it. He decides to change it because he doesn’t want to know how many other popstars Nick has been with, how many of them have gotten to kiss him when he hasn’t. Harry doesn’t believe he’s just another stupid popstar on Nick’s list and changes the question while he asks it.

“How many young, stupid models has Grimmy hooked up with?” He asks through a laugh.

The entire studio starts laughing; Pixie nearly falls off her chair, Gillian is cackling from her throat, Aimee claps her hands and has to bend over for a second to breathe. It’s a better reaction than Harry could have hoped for.

Nick whacks him. “THAT’S NOT THE QUESTION,” he wails. “Harry, that’s not the question!”

When they go to a record after Henry’s incredible story about his past living experience with Nick, Nick pokes Harry hard in the chest, “Can’t believe you asked that!”

“Oh, it’s not his fault you’re a slag,” Gillian speaks up. “Was proper funny, that. Keep this one around Nick, I like him,” she says, nodding to Harry.

He flushes when Pixie agrees. “I might like him better than you, actually.”

“Heeeeey,” Nick says. The response is everyone else in the studio repeating ‘hey’ back to him.

Harry frowns from his spot next to Nick. “Hey.”

“Go sit ‘round the other side with Example, Harry. Gonna ask you questions and stuff in a minute,” Nick says, shooing Harry away.

Harry trips maneuvering around the table, earning a “Bambi legs, innit?” jeer from Example.

Once they’re introduced and Nick talks about how many times Example’s been in, he turns to Harry and asks, “Why don’t you come in at night?”

Giggling, Harry says, “Uhm, I’m always here. I’m just never allowed… on the thing,” forgetting the phrase ‘on the air’. It’s not his fault looking right at Nick makes him forget most of his words.

Nick hums, “That’s true. I think you’ve probably been my most popu—”

“I would say I’ve been the most supportive friend,” Harry cuts Nick off.

“Shut up!” Example says, a disapproving, unbelieving look on his face.

“Nope!” Aimee says from behind Harry, waving her arm in the air in defiance.

“I think it’s between you and Aimee Phillips,” Nick suggests, pointing between the two of them.

Harry shakes his head, “I’ve been in the most times.”

“It’s definitely me!” Aimee calls, never the one to let an argument go.

“No, Aimee,” Nick reasons, “He comes in… He’s here all the time!”

“It’s a geographical situation!”

“I’m here like, everyday. I’m just… just never heard,” Harry tells her gently.

Nick nods, speaking over Harry a bit, “and everyone has to go ‘SHIT, ‘ARRY STYLES IS IN ‘ERE, IT’S A SECURITY NIGHTMARE!’” His voice goes up a bunch, imitating the panic that really only ever happened once when Harry visited. Some fans had seen them leave Nick’s together and shown up outside the studio. It wasn’t the best night Harry’s ever had but it’s pushed from his mind as Nick’s voice brings him back to the conversation, “Why don’t you tell the good people how you treat me when I’m broadcasting on BBC Radio 1?”

Harry smirks, “Uhm, I usually throw things.” It’s typically pieces of paper rolled into little balls, to try and distract Nick from presenting. Once it was Nick’s own shoe that Harry had stolen and held hostage. “And, uh, present things.” About a month earlier Harry was in and had convinced Nick to let him open the show, pretending to be Nick himself, as if no one would notice. Harry thought it was a right laugh; Matt Fincham, who was producing the show that night, did not. “And, uh…” He can’t think of another thing until Nick points to the microphone that Harry had moved earlier. “Make your mic move away from your face,” he finishes, grinning.

It’s only when Example starts asking about album sales that Harry gets proper embarrassed. He doesn’t want the focus on him, he thinks the focus should be on Nick. The discussion is making Nick laugh but Harry would rather they move on. He never really likes talking about his band’s successes anyway.

“We’re gonna do some karaoke,” Nick says, listing off the songs they can pick from.

Harry can’t help but frown and roll his eyes when Nick lists Diana Ross’s _I’m Coming Out_ and points expectantly at Harry.

“Harry’s next single,” Example jokes.

“Hey,” Harry pouts. “Words hurt, guys.” He knows the joke itself holds no harsh meaning. People often joke about Harry’s gross infatuation with Nick and he can’t find it in himself to be actually upset.

“Madonna, _Like a Virgin_ , not Harry’s next single.” Nick smirks and smiles slyly at Harry. Harry rolls his eyes and lets him joke, likes it better when Nick’s the one teasing him.

Then Nick lists _Careless Whisper_ and Harry wonders if Nick picked it because he remembers when Harry got the tattoos on his feet.

They had just been sitting watching telly, Harry’s feet in Nick’s lap, when Nick started tracing his thumb over the exposed part of Harry’s ankle. He must have looked down at one point and seen the tattoos because he gasped.

“More tattoos?!” Nick had asked incredulously. “You’ll have run out of room by the time you hit thirty.”

“Thought it was clever,” Harry had shrugged. “We’re a boyband that doesn’t dance.” He was silent for a moment and then smirked, “Besides, my guilty feet have got no rhythm.”

Nick snorted, shook his head, and rested his palm on Harry’s shin, “An idiot is what you are.”

That was then but as it turns out, neither Example, Nick, nor Harry know the melody to _Careless Whisper_ now. They barely know the lyrics even though they’re right in front of them. They try their hardest; well, Example and Nick try their hardest. Harry doesn’t sing like a popstar, he pretends he can’t sing and just does it normal, which is to say he just stands back and lets the older men handle it. Nick does mention that he remembers the tattoo, which makes Harry feel all giddy. He joins in on some parts but likes hearing Nick sing anyway. His favourite thing is when Nick sings along with records on the radio, his joy in doing so adding something special to the shows, especially when he raps.

Harry hopes it’s okay for people watching at home; they have a bit of a dance session and he tries to sing along a bit but Nick playfully punches his cheek and he totally loses his cool as he’s tucked up next to Nick, meant to be singing. He should really get the whole Going Speechless Around Nick thing under control soon, he thinks.

The rest of the show passes by quickly after that. People come and go from the live lounge but Harry stays to watch as Nick talks to the Klaxons and Annie Mac and Aimee and a few more of his favourite people. They’re treated to a clip from Nick’s ‘G-Munni’ days and also a very sweet speech from Mark Ronson about how good Nick is at what he does. Harry tears up a little bit, Aimee punches him.

Nick ends the show with a club beat and says it’s a good segue into the rest of the night, reckons he needs to catch up with everyone who had been drinking while he’d been busy doing a _professional_ job on the radio, working like a dog while the _wasters_ got drunk on his alcohol.

Harry’s so caught up in Nick’s whirlwind of excitement that he barely remembers how he ends up on the dancefloor of a club. He suspects Nick dragged him into a cab and the cab took them there. That seems logical.

On the dancefloor he’s caught between Pixie and Gillian, the two women dancing wildly around him. He spins them each around a couple of times, smiling broadly as they giggle. Then Henry steps in and says he wants a spin. He’s a bit taller than Harry so it’s a little more difficult but fun nonetheless.

The later it gets, the thinner the crowd becomes until it’s mostly just people that are there for Nick. There are a few random couples kissing in darkened corners of the room, the club’s staff are trying to clean up some broken glass off the floor, and Aimee and Annie are pulling Nick up on the stage at the end of the room.

Wait. That catches Harry’s attention pretty quickly. He watches as they stumble over their feet, well past a little bit drunk, and clearly up to something. Aimee has a microphone in her hand and is trying to get the crowds attention. She’s too drunk though, keeps giggling and repeating herself quieter instead of louder, so Annie takes the mic from her.

“Oi! You other drunken idiots! Listen up!”

Nick leans over to Aimee and shouts, “Everything’s broken and _this_ DJ is WAAAASTEDDD.”

Once the crowd settles down Annie speaks again. “First, we wanna thank you all for coming. I’m sure Nick himself will tell you at some point but right now he’s drunk and feeling important,”

True to her statement, Nick leans in close to her and drags the microphone over to his mouth, “I’m doin’ bloody breakfast, ya’ll!” He yells, causing the speakers to screech out a bit of feedback. The crowd still cheers though, Gillian and Henry whoop and high five each other.

“Second,” Annie continues, turning to Nick, “we just want to give a big congratulations to dear Grimshaw here,” she says, patting him on the back. “We know how important the night show’s been to you all these years. We know how much you’ve dreamt of getting the coveted breakfast show spot. We know you’re gonna smash it over there.”

Aimee reaches over and takes the mic from her. “We just want to tell you how proud we are of you, Grim. You’ve worked hard for this and no one deserves it more than you.”

Nick’s chin starts wobbling as they gather him in for a group hug. The three of them embrace while the crowd claps and cheers. Harry’s hugging his own waist, trying to keep all his feelings down.

After a bit Nick pulls away and takes the microphone. “Oh god,” is the first thing that comes out of his mouth, then he laughs. “God, these fools made me cry. Actual tears!” He makes a show of wiping a tear away. “I’d be nowhere without you two, my radio wife and my real life wife. You’re really the best part of me.” He smiles at them for a second before addressing the crowd, “And you all too! Thanks for bein’ here, thanks for supportin’ me. Please tune in to the new show so I don’t get sacked!”

Everyone laughs and Nick hands the microphone back to Annie. “We love you, Grim!” She calls. “Also, bartender says it’s last call so get your drinks and get your arses elsewhere!”

Nick makes a beeline for Harry after he stumbles off the stage. "Havin' fun popstar?" He slurs.

Harry giggles and pats his shoulder. "Not as much fun as you it would seem."

"Wanna get out of here?" He asks, eyes wide and unfocused.

"Sure, Nick. Let's get you home."

Nick claps. "BYE EVERYBODY!" He hollers suddenly, waving both hands frantically in the air.

Some people just wave and return to what they were doing before, but Henry comes over and gives Nick a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. At least all he goes in for is a kiss on the cheek, but Nick grabs his face in both hands and kisses him square on the mouth.

Henry laughs when they pull apart. "Half a decade ago I'd've gotten down on my knees after a snog like that." He says it more to Harry than to Nick, whose attention has shifted to Annie, arms wrapped tight around her and swaying back and forth.

Harry just nods, knows the feeling, jealousy pooling in his stomach. Henry pats Harry on the back and walks back to where his boyfriend is laughing at the scene. Harry wonders if he'll ever be in a relationship where his partner can snog someone else and he'll be able to just laugh it off without blind jealousy, thinks he'd have to in order to date Nick. The man loves everyone and craves attention, likes feeling intimately close to as many people as possible. Harry shakes his head; it’s not as though dating is on the table for them if he can’t even get a little kiss.

Annie's gone by the time Harry focuses back on Nick. Aimee's taken her place, hugging Nick tightly and whispering something in his ear. She looks up and catches Harry’s eye, winking at him before licking Nick’s earlobe and coming over to throw her arms around Harry’s middle.

“Hiya Aimee,” he says, giving her a tight squeeze back.

“Hey,” she says back, drawing out the syllable. She giggles and then deepens her voice, “Heeeeeeyyy,” she drawls, imitating Harry.  
  
Nick starts whining from over her shoulder as she lets go of Harry. “Aiiiiiims, leave Harold alooooone. It’s time to go hooooome.” He giggles at his rhyme and starts singing, a mix of “Harold alone, gotta go home” over and over again.

“You sound like Thurston,” Aimee tells him.

“Well he is a GREAT singer,” Nick retorts.

“I really should get him out of here,” Harry states, voice remorseful.

Aimee sobers up suddenly. “Take good care of him, yeah?” She says seriously. “He quite fancies you.”

Harry’s sure she doesn’t mean it the way he’d like, but he nods nonetheless. “Of course. Night Aims.”

“Good night babes!” She says, hugging him again quickly. “Nick, you idiot, stop trying to pull that poor girl, you like cock.”

Nick’s wandered off and looks up from where he’s been poorly flirting with a group of girls, leaning up against a pillar for support. “These are…” he trails off and looks around. His eyes light up when he makes eye contact with Harry. “They’re for Harry! Harry! Are you interested?”

Harry grimaces. “Sorry for that one!” He calls over, addressing the girls. “They aren’t property, Nick, they don’t belong to anyone but themselves.”

Nick shakes his head, says something to the girls, and walks over, draping himself over Harry’s back. “Ready?” He asks right into Harry’s ear.

Harry waves to Aimee once more and pulls Nick from the club, the man still waving and shouting things at the people inside. There’s a cabbie waiting outside for them and Harry pushes Nick in, rattling off Nick’s address as he slides in himself.

Nick starts drawing shapes into the condensation on the window, one leg under him and the other stretched over to Harry’s side of the backseat.

Harry reaches over and pulls Nick away from where he’s drawing a very detailed spurting cock and hairy balls, briefly thinking that Nick and Louis would get along really well, both prone to drawing dicks wherever possible, so that he can help the lad buckle in.

“Take such good care of me, Harold,” Nick mumbles, patting Harry on the head. Nick stops patting and buries his fingers in Harry’s hair. “Such soft hair, Harry.” He snorts. “Hairy Harry.”

Harry flutters his eyes closed and focuses on how nice it feels to have fingers, Nick’s good and long fingers, in his hair.

“If you don’t sit still you’re gonna be Sick Nick,” the cabbie grumbles.

Harry can’t help but laugh as Nick sits back against his seat and crosses his arms like a petulant child.

During the drive Nick wretches twice but doesn’t actually get sick, tries and fails to sing along to an old Karmin record, and attempts to launch himself out the back window.

Luckily, before long they’re stumbling out of the cab, Harry tossing a few extra pounds into their fare for their troubles, and into Nick’s flat.

“Make way, door, for the _King of Breakfast_!” Nick bellows into his empty flat, walls reverberating back to him.

Harry grabs Nick by the waist from behind and leads him to the kitchen. “Water for you, Mr. King of Breakfast.”  
  
Nick nods seriously, “at least you know.”

Harry pours them both a tall glass of water and turns to find Nick missing from the kitchen. He blinks, confused, at the empty kitchen before looking into the lounge.

Nick is sprawled across his couch in just a pair of pants, clothes discarded in a line from the kitchen, and he’s squinting at the light shining off his phone in the darkness of the room, one foot dangling off the edge of the sofa. He looks up when Harry places the water down on the table next to him.

He looks up and smiles just to the left of Harry’s head. Harry suspects he can’t see much, temporarily blind to the room after looking at his phone, and goes to turn the overhead lights on dim.

“You’re too good for me, Harry,” Nick says quietly. “Too good to me, too.”

Harry blushes. “Not too good, I don’t think.”

Nick hums in response but doesn’t say more, just continues to stare at the wall, phone forgotten on his naked torso as Harry sits down on a chair next to the couch.

“Hey Nick,” Harry starts tentatively.

“Yeah, Haz?”

“Were you, uh. Have you really snogged, uh, everyone that was there?” He looks down at the condensation dripping off his glass of water.

Nick hums again, thinking it over. “Think so, yeah. Don’t remember kissing Wolfy if I’m honest. Vaguely remember kissing Elliott. Someone got a photo and thought it was funny. An _example_ of how I kiss or sommat stupid.” He chuckles lowly. “What brings this on?”

Harry taps his glass and sets it down, twiddling his thumbs before shaking out his hair and coughing, all in a row. “It’s just, uh.” He coughs into his fist again. “Youhaven’tkissedme,” he mumbles quickly.

“Didn’t catch that, popstar.”

“We, uh, haven’t kissed. You’ve snogged everyone there but me,” Harry says quietly.

Nick tries to look at Harry upside but nearly falls off the couch so, with a grunt, he rolls onto his belly and lifts his neck to stare straight into Harry’s soul, or at least it feels that way.

Nick frowns at him for a minute. “I can’t tell if you’re upset because you feel like I lied to the nation, or if you’re upset because you’re jealous.” He scrambles into an upright position and puts his hands on Harry’s knee. “Hazza.” Harry looks down at where Nick’s thumb is rubbing circles on his jeans. “Harry, I barely remember half of those snogs. And most of them were with women.” Nick’s quiet for a second and then quickly adds, “I mean, I love them all, but. Not interested, thanks. Wrong tree.”

“‘m not jealous,” Harry mumbles. “Just wondered.” He coughs, trailing off for a second. “Uh, just wondered why you never snogged me.”

“Aw, Hazza. Well, really, didn’t know you wanted to if ‘m honest. How’s a bloke supposed to know his mate’s also into blokes if said bloke doesn’t speak up, huh?” He laughs, gently pushing Harry’s knees.

“Just you, I reckon.”

Nick just tilts his head like a confused dog.

“Reckon you’re the only bloke I wanna kiss at the moment,” Harry clarifies. “Erm, maybe Ronnie Wood too, actually.”

Nick, who is taking a drink of water, snorts and splutters the liquid all over himself and the floor. “Oh my GOD Harry. _Ronnie Wood_? Like Ronnie Wood from the GQ Dinner we were at? Like 65 year old Ronnie Wood with all the wrinkles?”

“Hey,” Harry pouts, “he’s talented!”

Nick pouts too. “Reckon I’m the better kisser. Slightly less all wrinkly in your face,” he says, making his fingers wiggle in front of Harry’s face to signify the wrinkles. Harry giggles. He likes Nick _so much_.

“C’mere popstar,” he beckons, patting the couch beside him.

Harry steps over to him on shaky legs and plops down, body turned to Nick as the man does the same.

“In just a mo’ I really will have kissed everyone in that bleedin’ studio,” Nick smirks.

He doesn’t give Harry a chance to answer before he’s leaning in, large hand coming up to cup Harry’s cheek, long fingers playing with the hairs behind Harry’s ear.

As Nick leans in, Harry’s breath hitches, loud in the otherwise silent room. His heart is racing and he’s sure Nick can hear it thumping away in his chest. He stops a hair’s width away from Harry’s mouth, asking, “Is this okay, popstar?”

“Mhmm,” Harry mumbles, not trusting himself to use actual words.

One second Nick is just sitting in front of him and the next second his mouth is on Harry’s. They’ve been leading up to this for the last five minutes so it shouldn’t shock Harry, but it _does_ shock him; he’s been thinking about it for so long he’s not sure it’s entirely real now that it’s actually happening.

All of his emotions rush through him suddenly and he breaks the kiss before it even starts getting good, feeling like he's going to shake right out of his skin. He groans and puts his face back in his hands, embarrassed.

Nick just laughs lightly and keeps playing with Harry’s hair, a reassuring gesture. “You all right?”

Harry groans again, “Sorry. I swear I’m usually, uh, better than that. ‘s just. I’ve never really kissed, uh, a bloke before?”

Nick sits back with an eyebrow raised. “Harry Styles. You mean all that time on X-Factor and you never had a cheeky snog with one of your boys? What is this world coming to?” He shakes his head. “I thought the X-Factor house was all chatting in riffs and horny teenagers shagging in closets.”

Harry laughs, already feeling more calm. “No, I’ve totally snogged all the boys. Think everyone saw me naked before I snogged them though.” Nick shakes his head again at that. “‘s just, those kisses were fun, like testing out a friendship. This,” He points between himself and Nick, “is different. Err, at least? It feels different?” Harry blushes, worried he ruined the moment, said too much too soon.

Nick’s right hand is still in Harry’s hair but his left finds Harry’s hands in his lap and gives them a squeeze. He doesn’t speak until Harry looks at him, “This can be different. Hell, hope I’m different than some slobbery teenage snogs where you don’t know what to do with your tongues.” He emphasizes his statement by waggling his tongue about.

“Oh, I definitely know what to do with my tongue now,” Harry smirks.

Nick gasps, “Harold! You slag.” He grins sweetly at Harry. “Well c’mon then, show me how it’s done.”

Harry feels more comfortable and confident as they lean into each other this time, their lips slotting together almost perfectly, hands still clasped together between them. He decides to be bold and part his mouth a bit, tongue flicking against Nick’s bottom lip. Harry can feel Nick smile before he opens his mouth too, gently licking into Harry’s.

His heart thumps heavily and steadily in his chest as they continue kissing. Harry lifts one of his hands to the back of Nick’s neck and leans in closer, deepening their snog. Nick makes a pleased noise in the back of his throat and lets Harry lead for a bit, opening his mouth wider so the boy can lick into it, tongues practically tangling together.

Once he’s completely out of breath Harry pulls back, nipping at Nick’s lip twice before he breaks away entirely, breathing deeply to get some oxygen back into his lungs.

Nick chuckles and runs a hand through his quiff. “Wowza.”

Harry snorts. “‘Wowza’?” He asks, quirking an eyebrow.

Nick punches his shoulder gently and mumbles, “Shurrup.”

Harry coughs, asking, “Was that okay?”

He blinks and in the milliseconds it takes to close his eyes, Harry's face is squashed against Nick’s chest, the man having pulled him in for a hug. Nick’s chest hair is tickling Harry’s ear a bit but he can hear and feel Nick’s heartbeat pounding hard against his ribcage.

Harry lets himself be pulled practically all the way into Nick’s lap. “You don’t need reassurance, popstar. You know it was good.”

Harry smiles into Nick’s collarbone. “Well it was good for me but...”

“Was good for me too. Wanna keep doing it if you’re up for it.”

Harry responds with a kiss, tilting his head back to get Nick’s lips on his own.

They end up sprawled across the couch, Harry on top of Nick with Nick tracing shapes into Harry’s back. Their kisses are gentle but thorough, deep and wet. It’s warm and just the right side of rough and Nick is a _really_ good kisser. Harry’s sure he could probably recreate the shape of Nick’s mouth by now, just from his tongue feeling it out for so long. Nick’s bottom lip is red and puffy from where Harry’s been pulling on it, and Harry can feel the dryness in his cheeks where Nick’s slight stubble has been rubbing against him.

It feels like it’s too good to be true, finally kissing Nick, finally feeling the movements of his body under him. Harry’s been trying really hard not to rub himself off against Nick but he can’t help it, the fit man he’s fancied for ages is _finally_ underneath him, still topless, and snogging him breathless, Harry’s only human. Besides, Nick’s not exactly discouraging him by keeping his legs spread open and a hand roaming along Harry’s back. The hand that isn’t cupping Nick’s face, Harry keeps on his chest, feeling Nick’s heartbeat while he runs his fingers through the man’s chest hair.

The snogging lasts for a few more moments but doesn’t get any more heated than a bit of light grinding. Harry’s sporting a semi and Nick feels to be in the same state through his thin pants, but they’re both content to keep the majority of their clothes on. For once Harry’s not the one mostly nude. It’s pretty steamy for a first kiss, though Harry figures they’ve been leading up to this point for a while, his feelings are stronger because he’s been wanting it for so long.

They fall into bed together not long later, giggling and stealing kisses. Harry strips down to just his pants as well and wiggles his way under the covers, which Nick is helpfully holding up, waiting for him.

Harry turns so he’s facing Nick, and the two lads just stare at each other. As cheesy a thought as it is, he can’t help but notice that Nick’s eyes seem to sparkle, bright and wide like the prettiest things Harry’s ever seen. He starts giggling suddenly, thinking back over the entire night, overwhelmed with elation. He tries to control it by bringing a hand up to his mouth and laughing behind it. Nick just smiles, eyes crinkling, and reaches over to pull Harry’s hand away from his mouth, then leans in and gives him a chaste closed-mouth kiss.

“‘m glad I can kiss you now, popstar. You’re fun to kiss.”

Harry’s glad it’s dark enough that Nick can’t see how hard he’s blushing. “You’re fun to kiss, too. Better than I imagined really.”

“Imagined it, have you?” The little tilt in his voice tells Harry that Nick is smirking in the darkness.

“Shut up, Grim. Everyone else has kissed you, figured you must be okay.”

“Or maybe I was so shit no one wanted to kiss me a second time.”

Harry scoffs and scooches closer to Nick, resting his head against Nick’s chest and lacing their feet together. “ _I_ wanna kiss you a second time,” he mumbles.

Nick hums but does nothing more than rub Harry’s back.

Their breathing slowly evens out, heart rates slowing down, eyelids drooping. In an almost-asleep haze Harry thinks about how both he and Nick got the things they’ve been dreaming of for ages. Their versions of success are a little different, Nick with a career and Harry with a snog, but they’re both successful in his eyes.

Harry’s certain Nick’s fallen asleep, is almost there himself, but then Nick mutters, ever so quietly, “I wanna kiss you again too, Harry.”

It’s the last thing Harry hears before fatigue takes over and he falls asleep with a smile on his face, feeling the rise and fall of Nick’s chest as the man sleeps soundly beside him.  


In the morning Harry will wake up before Nick, he’ll leave a note saying he’s in the kitchen making breakfast, and when Nick stumbles in, sleep rumpled and blurry eyed, Harry will joke about how _he’s_ the King the Breakfast now as he sets their plates down. They’ll giggle at each other over homemade waffles, play footsies under the table, and check each other out in the mirror while they’re brushing their teeth. Nick will corner Harry against a bookshelf when the remnants of breakfast and toothpaste are gone from their mouths and will kiss him once for “good” and once for “morning”. They’ll curl up together on the couch and watch shit telly all day, stealing kisses whenever they can and almost entirely forgetting about whatever program is on. Harry will shyly ask if Nick wants to keep doing this regular kissing thing and Nick will punch him, shaking his head and telling him not to be so daft as he licks back into Harry’s mouth, a promise of _yes, let’s keep doing this_.

 

But none of that’s until morning, and they continue sleeping tucked into each others embrace, content as can be.

**Author's Note:**

> links: chris moyles' leaving announcement [x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W2N5YlK16Ts)  
> nick talking about getting breakfast [x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N7kRchYoYAY)  
> final nighttime show video [x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IyRLkMStT-8) (i have the full audio saved to my computer, so some of the dialogue is from that, but the majority of the show is there for your viewing pleasure)  
> another link will be added when authors are revealed :)


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